


From Among The Stars [A Plant Boy! and Space Boy! AU]

by Annalise_Neufeld



Category: Daniel Howell (Youtube), Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Philip Lester (Youtube)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Dan crash-lands on Earth, Fluff and Angst, Forests, Gay, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Outer Space, Phil is a forest guardian, alternative universe, plant boy au, space boy au, they have a wolf as a pet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annalise_Neufeld/pseuds/Annalise_Neufeld
Summary: "Are you... human?"Philip Lester is a sprite, living in the heart of a dense forest in England.  His ability to connect with the Earth through plants sets him apart from humans, so he remains in solitude for the majority of his days despite his human appearance and mostly human lifestyle.  He takes care of the forest around him, perfectly content with his quiet, unassuming life.A spaceship crashing into his forest is unexpected.  The man crawling from the burning wreck is even more so.The mysterious boy from a mysterious, far-off planet gives Phil the perfect opportunity to learn what it truly means to be human.  Together, they learn how to co-exist and love in a world that never intended to collide with space."Not exactly.  Some call me a faerie, others call me a sprite.  I'm more of a guardian of the forest that doesn't exactly fit into any of those labels."





	From Among The Stars [A Plant Boy! and Space Boy! AU]

Phil loves trees more than anything else in life. 

Sure, he loves his cottage, which is nestled in the heart of the woods, and he loves the way the sky looks when the sun is setting, but neither of those things compare to his love for trees. They’re tall and strong, and their foliage shades the forest floor and leaves spots of light dancing on the grass below. As a sprite, it’s Phil’s job to protect them, and protect them he will. 

But, for now, he’ll focus on running away from the townspeople. 

He sprints through the forest, leaves whipping his face and his hair blowing back in the wind. His cloak flutters behind him, and to the untrained ear it would sound much like a gust of air passing through the trees. He can hear the shouts and thundering footsteps of the townspeople behind him, so he maintains his pace. Thankfully, his footsteps are virtually silent, so getting away from them is easier than you would think. Eventually, they’ll lose track of him and return to their village before they get lost in the dense woods. 

He leaps over the trunk of a fallen tree and ducks behind it, listening carefully. The townspeople speak to one another, their tones harsh, before muttering amongst themselves and walking back to the village. Phil takes a deep breath, fingers clutching the bag at his side. Inside is a few essentials that he can only get from the village, and his lack of money requires him to steal every now and then. There are some things that the forest can’t provide, and as much as he may not like it, he can’t live without them. 

He walks the rest of the way home, his bag thumping gently against his thigh as he goes. His racing heart slows as he gets deeper into the forest, the trees making him feel at peace despite the tumultuous events of the afternoon. Phil takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, woodland air. 

He approaches his cabin, a small, wooden building with a thatch roof and small windows. A chimney pokes through the thatch, smoking cheerfully, and next to the home a garden filled with vegetables, grains, and berries teems with life. A short distance away, a quaint yard of chickens and a cow rests.

Phil pushes open the door of his home and heads to the kitchen, where he empties his bag onto the kitchen counter. Inside is some paper, a quill, ink, sugar, and some new towels to replace his old ones, and he places each of these items in their respective places before setting his kettle on the stove. He mixes together dried fruits and herbs in the bottom of a mug, pours the boiling water over it, and settles in his chair by the window with his tea. 

His life of solitude is sometimes lonely, but he doesn’t mind. He’s content, and that’s all that really matters. He sips his tea and watches the sun sink down below the trees, and when it does he tidies up his cottage and heads to his room, where he strips down to just his underwear, crawls into bed, wraps himself in a quilt, and falls asleep in moments. 

~*~

Phil is shaken from his dream by an astounding crash. The distress of injured or dying plants is felt deep within his bones, and without a moment of hesitation he’s clambering out of bed, pulling a robe on, and racing out into the forest. He’s like a phantom, almost silent as he runs in the direction of the crash, the moon shining through the leaves above and sending small strips and spots of light dancing across his pale skin.

The first thing he sees is the unmistakable orange glow of burning fires. They surround the crash site, brightening it more than the moon could ever hope to do. Phil slows, taking in the sight of a spaceship nestled among the broken remains of trees, its metal dented and torn and scratched beyond repair. As he watches, a young man crawls from the wreckage, coughing and gasping for air, and within moments he collapses onto the grass and passes out.

Phil emerges from the trees and moves to the man’s side, his footsteps soft and silent. He kneels beside him and touches his shoulder, studying his bruised, bloody, ash-smeared form with concern gripping him. Biting his lip, he straightens up, stomps out some of the larger fires, leaves the smaller ones to diminish on their own, and scoops up the injured boy into his arms. He starts carrying him back to his cottage as gently as he can, the boy’s head swaying slightly with his movements.

When he arrives back at his home, he settles the man onto his bed and leaves the room, his mind racing. It’s not exactly every day that some mysterious ship crash-lands, and unfortunately Phil ran out of remedies for broken space boys days ago. Phil snorts, but mentally slaps himself when he realizes that all joking aside, this boy desperately needs his help. Phil paces back and forth, chewing his bottom lip as he tries to think. A good first step is probably bandaging his injuries, right? Probably. Phil moves around his house, collecting bandages, alcohol, and a wet rag with a frantic sort of energy, before reentering his bedroom and settling on a chair beside his bed. As gently as possible, he pulls the blanket away and studies the boy, curiosity overpowering his worry. 

The space boy’s skin, where it isn’t marred by cuts or bruises, is pale and smooth. A crown of soft, loose brown curls sits on his head, tendrils brushing his forehead above two dark eyebrows. He seems content, almost angelic, despite the cuts that cover his entire body, pink lips parted ever so slightly as he breathes. He wants the boy to open his eyes. He wants to brush his curls from his forehead and run his fingers through his hair because it looks so soft.

Phil shakes himself out of his trance. He doesn’t generally like people, and he has no proof that this boy is any different from anyone else. He exhales and presses the warm cloth to a cut on his cheek, wiping away the blood and dirt before dabbing alcohol on the wound, gritting his teeth when the boy winces in his sleep. Thankfully he doesn’t wake up, so Phil places a bandage on his cheek and continues to the next wound. He does this for his entire face and torso, and when he discovers a large bruise on the man’s chest right over his ribs, he grabs a cold, wet cloth and presses it to the bruise.

When he’s finished, Phil straightens up, covers the boy with the blankets once again, and moves to his chair. He watches the stars and the silhouettes of trees against the dark sky, and that’s how he falls asleep.


End file.
